


On the Tip of My Toes

by fanficcrafter



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, En Pointe!Yuri, Gen, Lilia is sometimes nice, M/M, Mila is a cranky lesbian, Otabek is a hot babe, Prima ballerina!Yuri, Sara laughs at her stupid girlfriend, Victor spelled like Viktor, Viktor is an annoying dad who likes katsudon, Yuri's lowkey an ass, Yuuri can't believe that he's married such a fucking nerd, everyone at hottopic knows him by name, fucking fight me, georgi is literally an emo piece of shit, he'll be the greatest, he's basically me back in seventh grade, his eyeliner game is 10/10 tho, i love him so much, idk what yuuri's gonna do but he's cool, this story is basically yuri being the best ballerina ever, you go bby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 10:13:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9176458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanficcrafter/pseuds/fanficcrafter
Summary: Yuri is one of the best ballet dancers Russia has to offer. He's dedicated his life to this art, has pushed himself to his limits to become the best. His work ethic pays off and he lands himself a spot in Lilia Baranovskaya's class.It takes a while, but Lilia recognizes Yuri's talent. She puts him in pointe shoes, something only women do, and knows he'll be the best dancer of his generation.Training is hard, he's relearning how to dance, but the promise of greatness pushes him forward.Lilia announces that she's putting together a new production and wants Yuri as one of the lead roles. What she forgets to tell him is that he'll be partnered with a man from Kazakhstan who seems vaguely familiar...





	

**Author's Note:**

> I hit a really big block for this fic for the past like 2 years so i'm currently rewriting this bitch but feel free to read !!!  
> Honestly, this first chapter is gonna basically be the same plot-wise but like,,, she's getting an upgrade right now so y'all just sit tight alright!

“And a one. Two. Three. Four. Five-- chest up, Lara!--Seven and eight.” Madame  Baranovskaya stalks through the lines of dancers, eyes hawk-like as they roam over the students. She pulls apart a dancer and picks out their flaws, tongue sharp and words unforgiving as her commentary hits like an arrow-piercing the dignity of the proud dancers. This class is her masterpiece, the students are hers to shape however she wants. Each count is punctuated by her loud clap that rings through the studio, making Yuri’s ears ring. Her voice easily carries over the sound of the piano, filling up the entire room with the sounds of counting and criticism.

Yuri easily works through the movements:  _ Pliés, Battements tendus, fondus,  _ and _ frappés _ . They’re working on  _ Rond de jambe _ , the slow, fluid clockwise motion evolving to match a quick speed Madame claps out.

“Three. Four—Pyotr, sharper—seven, eight. And  _ one _ . Two —follow through, follow through—five, six.” Yuri had once been worried about being in this class, with people at least two or three years his senior. He’s the youngest and he feels that maybe he isn’t worthy of dancing beside them. He was pleasantly surprised when he realized that he was able to keep up with Madame and her demanding curriculum, matching and even surpassing his older peers.

“Turn out your foot, Nikolay.” The Madame bends down and roughly grabs Nikolay’s foot, turning it out. “You’re a professional dancer now, I expect perfect lines from you.” She says before she continues on, hunting down the blemishes in their dancing.

A few of the other dancers smirk at Nikolay’s humiliation, some even snicker, but Yuri pays them no mind. Despite his careless inaccuracy, Nikolay’s one of the strongest men in the room, and will always be paired up for duets. If the others want to laugh at the man’s incompetence, they’d first have to improve their own skills. Whenever Madame corrects someone, Yuri does as she says: point his foot more or turn out his leg. It may not have been directed at him, but all critique can be applied to each student and if Yuri wanted to be the best, he needed to know how to take and use critiques to improve his performance. While his peers were wasting their energy by humiliating and mocking their fellow dancer, Yuri is improving his skill.

When Madame approaches, Yuri begins to feel anxiety clutch at his stomach at the prospect of having the Madame’s judgemental gaze on him. Taking a deep breath, he forces the fear down, and continues with the dance. They’re doing  _ arabesques _ now, one of Yuri’s strengths. When the dancers bring their legs up into the air and hold it for sixteen counts, the others strain. Yuri, who made flexibility his top priority when he was younger, easily sustains this. Madame stops the music.

“Attention.” She calls, which is unnecessary. She’s always had the room’s attention, first from when she was a prima dancer herself, and now as the most rigorous Madame in Russia. Her icy gaze falls to Yuri and it takes all that he can to not flinch away at such a powerful look. “Hold your  _ arabesque _ again.” She commands and Yuri follows, leg up in the air in under a second. She holds his leg by the ankle and begins to use him as a model for the class.

“Look here, Yuri’s engaged his core to help lift his leg up off the ground.” Her cold hand lays against his stomach for emphasis. His abdominus muscles are taut under her touch, engaged like she said. Her hand moves to his hamstring, which quivers under the stress of holding his leg up for so long. “The muscles in his leg, too, are being used to keep this up.” She taps his leg and lets go, allowing for him to drop the limb. She turns to address the class.

“Because he is using his muscles, he doesn’t need any momentum to get his leg up. Her eyes snap to the side. “Dima! I hope you’re listening.” This startles the young man, who was flirting with the woman beside him, and he quickly straightens himself out.

“Yes Madame.” He responds. Yuri’s amused at the drill sergeant-like way Madame runs her class.

“Good,” She says. “Because your  _ arabesques _ are horrendously sloppy.” With that, she gestures to pianist who begins to play immediately. The dancers are quick to return to their places to finish up the routine. 

The remaining two hours of morning practice consists of centre,  _ port de bras _ , and is concluded in pirouettes and jumps. By the time the three hour session is up, Yuri’s skin is slick with sweat and he is out of breath. His fellow dancers aren’t in better shape. When they are dismissed, everyone quickly grabs their water bottle to cool off. Conversation kicks in as dancers make plans for lunch, shoving their shoes in their bags and wiping the sweat from their brows. Yuri guzzles a majority of his water and gasps for breath. He lets his hair fall from the rubber band and runs his fingers through the growing strands. He begins to stretch out his muscles, a good way to help calm him down after a class. When he feels that he’s ready to continue with his day, he ties his hair back up and begins to collect his things. Before he can leave the room, however, someone calls his name.

“Yuri.” Madame says from the other side of the room, capturing the attention of the dancers who remain. She gestures for him to come over and, nervously, he does. 

He can feel curious gazes on his back and can hear confused whispers as the other dancers speculate what he’s being called over for. Yuri fears that his performance is lacking, and suddenly fear is clawing its way up his throat. In a blind moment of panic, he thinks of all his hard work gone down the drain.

“How are you, Yuri?” Madame’s voice, cold and distant, brings him back, forcing him into reality. He nods before realizing that a verbal answer is needed.

“I am well, Madame.” He’s still a bit breathless, from class or from nerves he isn’t quite sure. Whenever he speaks to Madame, he finds himself using the most formal responses he can. It comes from the Madame’s prestigious dancing career. She was once the best ballerina in Russia, simply greeting the woman called for Yuri’s most advanced vocabulary.

“You are easily one of the most talented boys in this company. Your extension is flawless, you dance with calculation  _ and _ passion, and you have tremendous skill.” Madame’s voice is nonchalant, but Yuri knows that any compliment from the woman is rare and should be received with tremendous gratitude.

“Thank you, Madame.” He feels giddy, heart suddenly lighter now that the possibility of expulsion has been wiped completely from his mind.

“Since you have surpassed the skill necessary to be a male dancer, I was wondering if you’d be interested in something new.” This makes Yuri stop, brings his relieved lightheartedness to a pause. The answer is yes, it’s always yes for the Madame. To say no means that he is out of her favor, and he may never advance through the ranks of the company.

“Yes.” He says, a bit unsure and tentative, but knowing that Madame wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t capable.

“I think your dancing would be better suited if we took a different approach. You have the physique and strength for it, and I know you are determined enough to master this new skill.” She pauses to find the right words, and Yuri’s breath stops in anticipation. “I want to put you in pointe shoes.”

The statement is like a bomb, turning Yuri’s brain into a chaotic mess.  _ Pointe shoes? _ He thinks, immediately intimidated by the idea of him in pointe. No male dancer has ever dared to dance in pointe shoes, it was completely unheard of. The body types of women and men are completely different in the world of ballet, and even dancing for five minutes in pointe could be harmful. It takes tremendous strength and a different understandings of how his muscles work to be able to dance like that. As if seeing Yuri’s internal panic, Madame is quick to continue her explanation.

“Like I said, you have the body for it. You are strong and precise, and have more skill and grace than any other male dancer here. I will be teaching you, Yuri, and we’ll spend as much time as necessary to get you to the same level as your female counterparts. You can think about it tonight and tell me your plan tomorrow morning, I know it’s a big decision-”

“I’ll do it.” Yuri says. Madame blinks at him, startled by the certainty behind his voice. Yuri knows he has to do this if he wants to be the best dancer in Russia. He would be one of the first male dancers in the world to use pointe. This is his opportunity to make a name of himself, to become something beyond what the other men are doing. Madame gives Yuri a quick smile, just the corners of her lips moving up, but Yuri sees it, and he knows he made the right choice.

“When’s your last class of the day?” She asks. 

“I have evening rehearsals from 3:45 until 6:30.” Madame hums in response.

“I’ll see you outside the shoe room at 7.” Yuri knows when he’s dismissed, and he gives a quick farewell and thank you before he continues out of the studio, hardly able to wait until the evening.

~

Yuri stands outside the shoe room at 6:57, still coming down from the intensity of evening rehearsals. He continues to drink from his bottle of water, letting the cool liquid run down his throat and settle in his stomach. He’s satisfied his hunger with a clementine, but knows that he’ll need to eat dinner soon. Madade Baranovskaya appears precisely at 7, sparing Yuri a quick nod before she leads him into the shoe room.

“Nadia,” Madame says to a young woman sitting behind a counter. She’s surrounded by notes on the shoes for dancers, dozens of orders that need to be placed before the end of the night. She perks up when she sees Madame, and she gives a nod of respect at the woman.

“Good evening, Madame Baranovskaya. What can I do for you?” She asks, her smile warm and easy on her face.

“I need to get Yuri into a pair of pointe shoes.” She explains. If Nadia’s surprised by Madame’s request, she doesn’t show it.

“What size do you wear now?” She asks, already out of her chair and walking down the shelves full of pointe shoes.

“Um, like an eight or a nine, I think.” Yuri confesses, reaching into his bag for his pair of flats. Nadia clucks her tongue at Yuri’s lack of awareness of his shoe size and comes back with six different pairs.

“Let's get to work.” She smiles, leading Yuri to a miniature barre where dancers can get a feel for their shoes.

Nadia helps Yuri into the shoes, quickly tying the ribbons and tucking them in. Yuri takes a moment to study his feet, trying to process the fact that he’ll be dancing in pointe shoes.

” _ Relevé.” _ Madame orders and suddenly Yuri is on his feet, hands clasping the barre as he tries to get up on his toes. It takes help from Madame but finally Yuri’s weight falls over his first and second toe, proper form. Nadia takes a few minutes to take observations on what she notices, squeezing the toe box and turning his foot this way and that. Yuri tells her which areas are too tight, where they feel loose and where he’s most uncomfortable. Nadia asks him to roll his feet around, to change into different positions, to flex and point his foot and turn it this way and that. Madame is patient with the process, unwraps a new pair of shoes for Yuri before he switches to the new ones. It takes two hours and another fifteen pairs before Yuri feels comfortable and confident in his shoes.

“We’ll have to make it tighter over here and to get it shaped differently there, but other than that these are the perfect shoes.” Nadia declares happily, flipping through the four pages of notes she had jotted down during the whole process. She gets up from the floor and returns to her desk to type in the order before she gathers the unwanted shoes and rewraps them. Yuri slips off his new shoes and carefully tucks them into his bag, still in a state of disbelief over the whole ordeal. 

“I’ve put in an order for a dozen more of these. They should be here by the beginning of next week. If you have any problems or need anything else, I’m always here.” Nadia grins at them, and waves as the two leave the shoe room.

“We’re going to start working on pointe starting Monday. Rest up this weekend, do some strengthening exercises. I’ll see you after morning classes.” Madame says before she disappears to her office, leaving Yuri in the lobby of the building dazed and elated. It was only Thursday, but Yuri was already prepared for a new addition to his list of classes. Suddenly remembering his hunger from earlier, Yuri quickly makes his way home for dinner. After all, he’ll need all his strength for Monday.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry that it's taken me forever to work on this fic.


End file.
